


Little Iron Man

by My_kokoro



Series: Erotic Stony Tales [1]
Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Little Red Riding Hood Fusion, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Food Sex, French food is the best, Hand Jobs, I mean they do use butter as lube, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sexual Roleplay, Werewolf Steve Rogers, Werewolf Steve can change form at will, not actual dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 14:03:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14214753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_kokoro/pseuds/My_kokoro
Summary: I got inspired by the lovely fics on this site that were re-writing fairy tales, so here's my take, stony-verse!Part one inspired from Little Red Riding Hood





	Little Iron Man

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! For my first erotic fairy tale, stony-verse, I went with Little Red Riding Hood. So there are a lot of versions out there, but obviously I didn't follow closely the tale. I hope you enjoy. It's basically just smut, to be honest (which makes me very nervous gaaaah). I went with Avengers Academy's Steve and Tony, so they're both young and Tony here is pretty lean and is beardless.  
> English isn't my first language, so if you notice any mistake feel free to point it out!  
> Also I had a problem with the translation of the Little Red Riding Hood's cake, which is supposed to be a galette... there is NO English translation for galette and this makes me go nuts.  
>   
> WARNING for this chapter: sexual roleplay (not actually dubious consent, they actually fully consent and are merely playing). So when Steve asks Tony about his "color", it's a code, green meaning 'okay' and red 'not okay'. If dubious consent roleplay makes you uncomfortable, don't read and stay safe.

Once upon a time, in a village near the forest, was a young man who was beloved by everyone. His real name was Tony, but he was more often called Little Iron Man, on account of his wonderful skills as a blacksmith and of his short height. He always had on a cloak with a hood, gold and fire-colored, which was given to him by Jan, the village dressmaker. She thought it would bring him good luck, for she had made it of a ray of sunshine -or so she said-. And as the good bubbly young girl was considered something of a fairy, everyone thought the hood rather enchanted too.

Tony’s mind was sharp, his heart just as big, and his brown doe-eyes and brilliant smile turned the heads of many. His inventions he worked tirelessly on at his father’s forge helped the whole village, and his pranks, together with his friend Clint, kept the joy there even at darker times.

Times like these, thought glumly Tony as he stepped over stinging nettles and brambles, careful not to catch his long skirt with the barbs. He didn’t want to cross Jan, who had kindly tailored a female dress just for him. God, Tony loved her. She was his best female friend (Rhodey, the head of the militia, was his best male friend).

Tony stopped, listening. The woods were silent and morose, and so very still, as if the animals were all hiding and the trees themselves holding their breath. As Clint, the best huntsman of the village, kept repeating drunkenly during the evening gatherings at the inn, it could mean two things: either there were humans there, making too much noise and scaring the fauna away, either there was something much more sinister, much more dangerous, and that thing was there to hunt you.

Tony squeezed his big wicker basket against his chest, breathing in deeply the comforting smell of the pastry inside. It was his mother’s best recipe of _galette_ , and it was still warm. Next to the wrapped-up cake, there was a bottle of wine and a pot of butter, and hidden between them, a sharp dagger Tony had forged himself.    
A bush rustled. Tony took in a sharp breath, and started walking again, swiftly. Over the female dress, which was composed of an underskirt, skirt, bodice, shirt and an apron, he was wearing his gold and fire cloak, the hood up and hiding his face.

Another rustle, and then two luminescent eyes peered at him from the darkness, and Tony stopped, his fingers digging in the osier of his basket with a sharp snap. Smoothly, the leaves parted away in a whisper, letting the beast step out. It was a wolf so big its withers easily reached Tony’s waist. Powerful muscles rolled under the thick gray fur. The eyes, a piercing ice-blue, were shining with awareness. The wolf circled him, its tail slowly swishing from one side to another. Its chops curled up, revealing pointed, deadly fangs, its red tongue uncoiling from its mouth like one of Jan’s ribbons.

Deep from its breast, the beast rumbled in a human-like voice;

“Good day to you, Little Iron Man.”

“Thank you, wolf,” said Tony, and he started walking again, though he had lost the road long ago.

The werewolf trotted next to him, sniffing the basket and licking its chops.

“Where are you going so early, Little Iron Man?”

“To my godmother Peggy,” replied curtly Tony, walking faster, but the werewolf matched his speed with ease.

“And what are you carrying under your apron? It smells tasty,” kept rumbling the beast.

“I am taking my godmother some cake and wine. Mom and I baked yesterday, and godmother always likes a good slice of cake.”

“Little Iron Man,” grumbled the werewolf, “you seem to have strayed off the path. Just where does your godmother live, that you’d find yourself on this side of the woods?”

“Her house is a good quarter from here in the woods, under the three large oak trees. There’s a hedge of hazel bushes there. You must know the place,” said Tony.

The werewolf licked its chops again, and, after seemingly having taken the time to think, it said, all-honey like -though its voice, deep and dark, was nothing but sweet-:

“Listen, Little Iron Man, you seem to be lost. How about I show you the way to your godmother?”

Tony threw a suspicious glance at him.

“I don’t presume you would do that from the kindness of your heart?”

“Dear God, no,” snickered the werewolf, “I intend to be payed for my services.”

“Would you like a slice of the cake, then?”

“Actually, I’m thinking of eating you up, Little Iron Man,” growled the wolf, and no sooner had it said so that Tony broke into a run, through the bushes, not caring of the brambles trying to hold him back with their traitorous thorns, holding protectively his basket against his chest. His cloak fluttered behind him. Tony didn’t really know where he was exactly, didn’t know that part of the woods very well, but it didn’t matter: he sprinted off like a rabbit.

With a howl, the wolf took chase, its paws loudly thumping on the ground. Tony ran as fast as he could, but as he was reaching a glade, the beast caught up with him in what felt like a heartbeat or two, and suddenly Tony was thrown head-first in a patch of tall grass, his breath momentarily cut from the shock, the basket knocked off his arms and rolling into the weeds. The werewolf  was heavy on his back, its breath loud by Tony’s ear. The beast whined -and Tony felt him change-.

“Get off!” he cried out, trying to writhe out from under the morphing creature.

Large human hands held him down, and he felt a man’s pelvis grind against his ass, human legs blocking his own.

“There, there, easy, Little Iron Man,” laughed the werewolf, his voice now warmer and less cavernous now that he had shifted into human form.

Tony writhed a little more, his heart thundering in his chest and warmth spreading through his guts. His fingers dug into the grass.

“You beast, get off me!” he protested, a bit weaker.

A hand let go of his shoulder, creeping to his front and unclasping his cloak, and the werewolf threw the bright hot red and golden cloth aside. Tony watched it flutter away and slump next to the basket.

“I’m going to eat you up,” growled the werewolf, and he made quick work of untying Tony’s bodice, bending over Tony’s back so as to nip and mouth at his nape, all the while thumbing his hard nipples. Tony shuddered.

“I can’t smell you well in this shape,” whispered the werewolf by his ear, much kinder. “What’s your color, Tony?”

“Green,” whispered back Tony, and at the same time took advantage of this moment of weakness from the wolf-man to squirm out of his grasp and reach for his basket.

Ignoring the dagger, he grabbed the pot of butter and threw it at the werewolf, crying out in an overly outraged voice;

“Begone, beast!”

The werewolf -now a tall, deliciously naked and muscular blond-haired man with fair skin and overly large shoulders- easily caught the pot before it hit him in the face, and pounced back on Tony, the two males rolling in the wild grass, Tony trying to push him off but the man being much too heavy for him;

“I’ll hunt you down and have your hide!” Tony spat as the werewolf held him down again, now swiftly disrobing him, his hands running along Tony’s strong legs, and fingering the soft woolen stocking.

“Well, how about that,” purred the werewolf. “You aren’t a young lady after all. Who would’ve guessed, a man hiding under a skirt,” and, spreading Tony’s knees apart, the werewolf dived in, mouthing Tony’s clothed groin. Tony cursed and bucked up right into the werewolf’s face, who retaliated by untying his underwear with his teeth and licking his hardening sex. Tony shivered. He didn’t really know what to do with his hands anymore, and didn’t feel like fighting much anyway, so he closed his eyes and threw his head back, fingers digging into the soil, as the werewolf took him into his mouth and started sucking. The burning arousal in his guts morphed into spiking pleasure, and Tony moaned. The werewolf didn’t stop until he had him gasping in pleasure and emptying himself down his throat, and as Tony laid there, panting and drowsy with the afterglow, the wolf-man snickered, reaching for the pot of butter.

“Oh look at you, Little Iron Man, aren’t you more sensible now? You know there’s no escape. What, did you really think you could hunt me down?”

He rolled Tony on his stomach and parted his legs again, and Tony shivered once more as he felt his breath on his bare thighs, his large rough hands caressing his skin under the stockings. Mind still clouded, but fire spreading through his veins as quick as lightning, Tony retorted, holding himself up on his elbows;

“Oh, I’ll hunt you down,” he said, “I’ll hunt you down and tie you up like cattle, and then I’ll take you, fuck you in the ass, until all you’ll be able to do is holler like a wolf bitch, you evil beast!”

The werewolf laughed, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of Tony’s rear.

“Ah, but I’m not the bitch, here, Little Iron Man. You are. You’re going to take me alright, but you’re going to take me _in_. I’ll make _you_ scream and holler like a wolf in heat.”

His hands slipped out from the stockings and ran up his legs to his hips, and he held him up, making him stand on all fours. Tony trembled as he felt human teeth dig into the flesh of his ass. His sex twitched, hardening again.

“Isn’t this a sight,” rumbled the werewolf. “You’re all smooth. From your shins to your thighs, even right here,” he purred as he gave a long lick in the exposed cleft of Tony’s buttocks. “You were just craving for it, weren’t you, bitch? You want a cock up your ass so badly you’ve prepared yourself, all clean and smooth, all loose and soft.”

His tongue dug in easily, pressed inside of Tony, and Tony’s arms gave in at the shock of pleasure that coursed through his spine up to the bones of his arms. The only thing still holding his rear up was now the wolf-man, his hands gripping his hips with an implacable strength. The tongue delved in deeper, and Tony whined, bucking his pelvis back into the face of the man pleasuring him.

The werewolf let go of him, gently. Somehow, Tony’s trembling thighs didn’t collapse and managed to keep his rear up in the air. There was a ‘pop!’ as the werewolf opened the pot of butter, and Tony sucked in a breath as lukewarm slick was spread over his cleft.

“You even warmed up the butter,” chuckled the werewolf. “Always prepared, aren’t you?”

“I’m a -ah!- futurist,” gasped Tony as butter-sleeked fingers prodded his hole.

“Color?” whispered the werewolf.

“Green, green, green, com’on, Steve!”

“I don’t recall giving you my name, human,” growled the wolf-man, and Tony yelped as he plunged two fingers inside of him.

It wasn’t painful -after all, Tony _had_ prepared himself beforehand, and his muscles were all soft and yielding-, and Steve’s fingers easily found his pleasure spot -practice did make perfect, laughed inwardly Tony, thinking back of how long it had taken him the first time, nudging around while Tony was squirming around in discomfort-.

“Ah,” moaned Tony, “ah, more, mor-I mean, fuck you, fuck you very much, I’ll make you pay, you evil, evil bea-iiiiaaaahhh!!!”

Steve’s assault on his pleasure spot had been relentless, nearly too much, and now his tongue was there again alongside his fingers, and, and, and—

Lightning flooding him inside, hot, scorching fire ravaging his pelvis, pleasure sparking down his thighs, into his sex, and up into his guts, rushing through his spine, up his nape, thundering into his mind as he cried out, lost into white-hot ecstasy. When he came to, Steve’s fingers were out of him and gently petting the small of his back, and his lips were pressing soft kisses on his nape.

“You okay?” said the wolf-man, and Tony took a moment to check on himself, eyes closed. His body felt like cotton, but he still wanted, wanted, _wanted_ , his sex still erect despite the orgasm he just went through.

“Evil beast,” repeated Tony, “Only creatures of Satan can make men cum from their butts only.”

Steve laughed.

“Or maybe you’re such a good, good bitch, that you just crave a cock inside your ass. I’ll give it to you, then. A good pounding.”

“Yeah, that bitch thing is getting real old, you aren’t very creative, are you?” mocked Tony.

“Well, you’re the one who sticks to calling me a beast. I’m sure you could be more creative too,” grumbled Steve.

Tony felt a weight against his hole, bigger than Steve’s fingers, and he breathed in, bracing himself.

“Green?” asked Steve, and he sounded a little breathless himself.

“Let’s stop with the colors, really, let’s just stop pretending I don’t want it,” muttered Tony. “End of the game. I want it, please tell me I’m the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and you’re over the moon with me. Get it? Moon? Werewolf? I’m so funny.”

“I love you,” said easily Steve, and Tony bit his lip in pleasure, both from those three words, and from Steve’s sex slowly entering him, a glorious and intense pressure. “You’re beautiful. The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. The kindest. The smartest. The one who makes my days shine like the sun, my nights shimmer like the moon. I would carve my heart out before I ever hurt you. I love you, Tony.”

Tony closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the ground, shivering with pleasure and emotion. He was now laying on the floor rather than propped up on display, and Steve was laying on him, though careful not to crush him with his weight. Steve’s hands were running over the naked skin of his sides, his mouth kissing his shoulders and nape, his hips swinging forward, backward, slowly, until the slide of his sex got easy and smooth and entirely welcome.

Tony’s felt full with Steve’s sex, felt his own weeping on the grass under his stomach, and he started crying quietly as Steve kept murmuring words of love against his moist skin.

“I love you,” gasped Tony, and he felt Steve shudder against him, inside him, his hips stuttering and then teeth sinking in his shoulder as the wolf-man moaned out, riding out his orgasm in a few more thrusts, harsher, deeper. Tony felt pleasure and semen flood his insides, and that was it -with a soft keen, he came again, spilling himself on the grass.

They remained immobile for a moment, working on catching back their breath, and then Steve kissed his shoulder as a warning and carefully slid out of him, rolling on his back. Tony turned over and cuddled against him, and they fell asleep. They were lying half on grass, half on a crumpled mess of Tony’s skirts, but they didn’t mind. The sun was now high in the sky, its rays were warm on their skin, and there was no wind to cool them off. Eventually, as the air turned a little colder, they woke up, and Steve licked him clean, making Tony laugh and squirm when he lapped at his skittish sides and nipples, and then moan in pleasure when he reached more intimate parts, which ended in them making love again, though this time they simply embraced each other, kissing and caressing the other.

Later, sitting on his apron and struggling to lace up his bodice, Tony complained that he was too sensitive and sore. Steve snorted at him and started digging into the basket.

“Hey!” called out Tony. “No picnic if you’re naked, mister.”

“I don’t own any clothes,” frowned Steve, glancing at the wrapped cake with longing.

“Here,” said Tony, throwing his red and golden cloak at him. He tied back his underwear, pulled up his stockings that were pooled down his shins, and put his skirt on. Sitting back on the apron, he patted the spot next to him.

“Come sit with me, let’s eat.”

“What about your godmother?” asked Steve, sitting next to his lover. He was naked, safe for Tony’s cloak, and that was hilarious, so Tony couldn’t help giggling a little.

“Visited her yesterday. Today I was looking for you, and you only.”

Steve grinned, and leaned in to peck his mouth, which never failed to make Tony blush, so Tony busied himself in unwrapping the cake, taking hold of the dagger so as to cut it into slices. Steve bunched up his skirt, uncovering his legs, and fingered his stockings once more.

“I meant to ask,” said the wolf-man. “What’s with the get-up? Why did you dress as a woman again?”

“Why, it doesn’t fit me?” drawled Tony, eyebrows shooting up.

It did, very much. Especially when Tony shaved properly, and even shaved the rest of his body. Steve felt hot just thinking of the smooth skin hidden beneath the shirt and bodice, beneath the stockings, beneath his undergarment.

Tony pushed a slice of cake in his hands, nose scrunched up.

“There. You’re drooling, it’s gross. Eat something. Preferably not me.”

They started munching on the cake, which was very good despite now being cold, and as Steve took a sip of the wine, Tony smiled and finally answered;

“Remember how we first met?”

“Of course. You were trying to trick me into stepping on a trap.”

“Yeah, and I was dressed like this. I thought you would find me less threatening if you believed me to be a girl.”

Steve frowned, putting down the bottle.

“Tony… you do know you smell of maleness, right?”

“What?” said Tony, frowning too.

“You smell like a male. I knew you were a male even before I spotted you. Also, I can smell some of our basic emotions, like fear, bloodthirst, or arousal. I wouldn’t have played with you today if I hadn’t smelled you were aroused instead of scared.”  

Tony looked at him indignantly.

“What? So back then, you knew I wasn’t a helpless young girl? And that I wasn’t afraid of you? Then you knew I was hunting you, didn’t you? Why did you come and talk with me then? I could have hurt you!”

“You didn’t smell of bloodthirst,” smiled, shyly, Steve. “I was curious about you. And you didn’t hurt me.”

Tony looked at him, still rattled, as if suddenly scared by this show of trust, and then he reached out and embraced him tightly, burying his face in Steve’s chest.

“I’m glad I didn’t hurt you,” he said, his voice muffled. “I’m glad I got curious about your human mind and tried talking things out with you. I love you, Steve. I would do anything to keep you safe.”

Steve hugged him back.

“About that, Tony, you smelled tense and worried before you saw me and started playing. And you didn’t even warn me we were playing. What was on your mind?”

Tony sighed.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you before I started the game. There’s been talks about war. Everyone is on edge. I’m worried, Steve. I wanted to have you come live in the village with me, but now isn’t a good time anymore.”

Steve stroke his back in a circular motion and kissed his temple, soothingly;

“It’s okay. We can wait. I don’t mind, Tony. As long as you’re safe. And I’ll watch out for any enemies. Your village will be safe.”

“How about you? I can’t lose you!” protested Tony, looking up.

Steve leaned in and kissed his mouth, and Tony let him kiss him again, longer, letting their tongues tangle for a little while. Then Steve held him closer and promised him he would be careful.

Eventually the day came to an end, and Tony had to return home. Steve turned back into his wolf form, and Tony put back on his golden and red cloak, and the two of them walked quietly back to the village. The wolf stopped on the edge of the woods and watched his lover walk away.

As he was about to turn back into the deeper forest, his sensitive nose caught a smell and he looked up. Sitting in a tree, high above his head, was one of Tony’s friends: the blond huntsman. He was playing with his bow, but his arrows were safely put away in his quiver. Noticing he had Steve’s attention, the huntsman saluted him with two fingers to his forehead.

The wolf grinned, turned over, and swiftly disappeared in the bushes.

**Author's Note:**

> So on the wikipedia page about the Little Red Riding Hood tale, I read that a version with a male Little Red Riding Hood existed! In this version, the guy is out in the woods to hunt the wolf, and disguises himself as a girl so as to trick the wolf and kill him. I liked to imagine Tony doing that, but instead of killing the wolf, he befriends it and eventually falls in love with him. Also, several versions of the tale have a werewolf, a vampire, or other ungodly creature.  
> I went with Tony disguised as girl and werewolf Steve while having in mind their look from Avengers Academy, though I haven't played the game (I did read plenty of fanfiction about it though XD).  
> Last note: I usually find rimming disgusting when it doesn't involve a dental dam. But I dunno, this time it seemed fitting? Maybe because Steve was a werewolf and canines lick disgusting stuff all the time? Anyway I still had to make sure Tony had cleaned up beforehand, lol.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear your thoughts. If you think tags are missing, please tell. I'm also having trouble with the ratings, I'm not sure if this should be tagged as M or E? It doesn't seem too explicit to me, but please tell if I'm wrong.
> 
> Edit: while re-reading, I realized a few lines kinda sound transphobic. The first is when Steve disrobes Tony and says, seeing his penis, that he's a man after all. Considering Steve is talking dirty, which includes kinda sexist stuff like 'bitch', I decided to leave it. The second line is when Steve says he knew Tony was male because he smelled as male. I'd like to clarify that one because when I wrote that, what I had in mind wasn't Steve smelling testosterone or smth, but Steve getting a feel of Tony's personality. When Steve says "I can smell some of our basic emotions, like fear, bloodthirst, or arousal", I thought of it as a mix of the sense of smell and of instinct. Like, fear and arousal, you could smell them from the scent we're giving out, but bloodthirst and intentions would be something that Steve would get through instinct rather than his sense of smell. So I like to think that if Tony really had been a trans girl, Steve would've 'smelled' that too, and would've acknowledged her as a girl.


End file.
